Hero of Lyrian (Working Title)
by The Lillie
Summary: After four years in her own reality, Rachel finally feels settled back in-she's got a good college life, several friends, even a steady boyfriend. The last thing she expected was for Lyrian to call her back, with new allies and enemies for her to face.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: All characters, settings, and elements from the Beyonders series belong to Brandon Mull.**

xxx

The baroness turned away from the dead body before her to admire her reflection in the mirror beside her. She looked certainly regal; the velvet red hat with the delicious crimson feather and superb gold threading looked positively divine atop her aristocratic head. The rest of her ensemble was also beautiful—all made of the most luxurious cloths and embroidered with lovely designs. How she would hate to leave them behind when she left this world.

Then again, perhaps she could take them with her. Perhaps only some of the boundaries were as vehement as the ones she had passed through previously. The baroness smiled, imagining herself in this attire among her own kind. How they would envy her.

Turning, the baroness glanced at the dead old man on the bed and smirked. Based on all the legends, she had expected more of a challenge from this man. But all the baroness had had to do was reach in and stop the heart while the old man slept.

The shadowman had surprised her. She wasn't aware that any had remained after the return of the Lost Ones, or that any others had left. And she had never heard of using shadowmen as bodyguards. But after her initial startle, the baroness had easily dismissed the shadowman to its homeworld. It had been aching to leave—the man it had been forced to protect had killed three of its brethren.

The baroness took off the delightful hat and set it back down, reluctant but decided. She would return for it soon enough. But the freeze she had placed would be thawing soon, and she had to be in character. The baroness mussed the ends of her hair and sent some blood into her cheeks to make it look like her panicked run had only just been completed. Putting on an expression of despair, she knelt by the dead man's bed and looked down as the people rushing up the stairs finally pushed open the door.

"We're too late," the baroness lamented believably. "He's gone."

A lord fell to his knees by the old man, grasping the latter's still, pulseless wrist; the lord's wife was close behind him.

"How can this be?" the lord cried. "What could defeat such a great man?"

The baroness stood sadly. "Old age." She shook her head. "The weary passage of time. The one enemy he could never combat with a sword."

As the grieving lord and lady began to weep over the body of their old friend, the baroness turned and solemnly spoke to the shocked young messenger in the doorway.

"Send word immediately to Caberton," the baroness commanded. "The king of Trensicourt is dead."


	2. A Butterfly and a Ring

Rachel lay on her back in the dark, staring at the bare white of the ceiling. She was completely alone in the dorm room, having opted out of the party her roommates were attending on the account that she had a headache and probably wouldn't be much fun anyway. She could hear the powerful bass of the music a few floors down; if she listened close she could make out people talking and laughing. But even though the party was in the same building as her, it felt miles and miles away.

Rachel rolled over and faced the window. Her view of the campus was mostly obscured by a large tree that all but blocked the whole window. Darcy, one of her roommates, was always complaining about that tree and threatening to one day chop it down herself. But she never did. Sometimes Rachel thought Darcy really would take a chainsaw to that tree, if she wasn't such a lifelong procrastinator. Rachel smiled at the thought of Darcy putting off her own death, [picturing the Grim Reaper checking his watch as Darcy insisted on just one more Tumblr post.

 _That poor Grim Reaper,_ said a voice in Rachel's head. _All those times he thought he had you in Lyrian, and now this._

At the thought of Lyrian, her smile changed. How many years had it been since she had surfaced in that farmer's field? Sometimes her adventures felt so recent that she was startled every time she woke up to find herself at home; other times, she had to remind herself that yes, it had all happened in her own real lifetime. Four years ago.

How long had it been for Lyrian? A day? A year? A hundred years? Were any of her friends still alive? Did they remember her? Would they recognize her if she returned? Would she recognize them? Rachel brought up a mental image of Jason the last time she had seen him: tall stature, sandy hair, strong jaw, friendly smile. She tried to put this image into the future, adding a few lines around his eyes, lengthening his hair, perhaps a beard. Would Jason grow a beard? Would she recognize him with one?

Rachel stopped imagining. It was pointless. She would never recognize him because she would never see him again. Or Galloran. Or Corinne. Or Aram. Or Jasher. Or Farfalee, or Halco, or Kerick, or Nollin, or Lodan, or Andrus, of Delissa, or Brin.

Or Drake.

Or Ferrin.

Or Tark.

Again Rachel had to just stop thinking, stop counting off her lost friends. They were gone from her, but at least they were happy. They had each other—mostly. And Rachel had her family, and her friends here—Darcy, Mel, Nadia, Lindsay, Spencer, Jake…

Especially Jake.

But her mind drifted again to Lyrian and how much she missed it. And not just her friends she had left there, but her _self_ she had left there. She missed being a hero, a noble scholar, a wizard. She missed Edomic.

The name of the ancient language caused something to stir within her—that excited spark that always accompanied her practice of magic. It wouldn't work if she tried it here, of course—Edomic was long dead in this world. But she still had the words. She ran through some of the ones she knew—to call fire, to move objects, to turn stone to glass, to call lightning…. The last one still made her apprehensive. Everything Orruck had implied, everything Galloran had said, everything she had studied herself—all testified of how difficult and dangerous the commander would be. Thus, in all the nine years since she had learned the word, Rachel had never spoken it aloud.

 _Well, it wouldn't do anything here anyway._

She pursed her lips and flexed her tongue, mulling the word over in her head. It was such a stupid thing to be afraid of. Just a word. Perhaps it would have been a rational worry in Lyrian, but here it was nothing. Not even a real word. Just weird gibberish. There wasn't even anybody in the room to ask what she was saying. It was itching on the tip of her tongue, pulsing, waiting to be said. Rachel opened her mouth and formed the first sound with her lips. What did she have to lose?

Decided, Rachel spoke the word aloud.

 _ZZZZZ!_

Rachel yelped, startled, and barely managed to stop herself from falling off the bed. Her phone was on the bedside table, vibrating with a text. She grabbed the buzzing rectangle to see a message from Jake.

 _Where are you? I'm at Nadia's party but I don't see you anywhere._

How sweet of him to notice her absence. Rachel tapped back a reply. _Went to bed early. Headache._

Jake texted back almost immediately. _That sucks._

 _Yup,_ Rachel lied. The headache had actually only been a minor, temporary thing, and she had been grateful for the excuse to avoid the noisy crowd.

 _Granted, so does this party. You probably made the right call skipping._

Rachel smiled. Jake pretended to be a popular, wisecracking genius—on the outside he was—but she had seen the side of him that hated being around people as much as she did. Rachel was about to suggest doing something else, when Jake beat her to it. _Want to take a walk outside? The night air could clear your head._

She smirked and responded, _Cool. I'll meet you by the front entrance._

Jake was already waiting outside when Rachel pushed open the glass door and stepped out to meet him. He was a lanky twenty-four-year-old with dark hair, currently dressed in a lightweight black jacket and blue jeans.

"Hi," Rachel greeted.

"Hi hi," Jake replied with a grin.

They walked around campus side by side, sometimes talking, sometimes just strolling in peaceful silence. Rachel's arms sung by her side as she sauntered down the sidewalk, until Jake pulled his hand out of his pocket and intertwined his fingers with hers. Rachel almost pulled back from his touch at first, but quickly relaxed. After all, it definitely wasn't the first time he'd held her hand like this—they'd been dating for almost two years now. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, and she smiled wider, and he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, and she laughed. And he laughed.

"You have such a great laugh," Jake noted.

"No I don't," Rachel blushed. "I sound like a horse.

"Well, it's the sexiest horse sound I've ever heard," Jake teased.

Rachel was about to reply with a joking neigh, but then she heard something strange—something distant and faint and foreign, yet at the same time close and familiar. She strained her ears to identify the sound—was it some sort of music?

Next to her, Jake paused under a streetlight. Rachel stopped absent-mindedly with him, struggling to listen for that barely-audible music that captured her attention so acutely. It was too faint for her to pick out the tune or even what instrument was playing—some sort of brass or woodwind?—but the feeling of it was as distinct and real as the lamppost above her. If only it was just a bit louder…

Jake was standing awkwardly, looking down and fiddling with something in his pocket. "Rachel?"

She turned and looked at him.

"I-I know we haven't known each other for an extremely long time," Jake admitted, "but I feel like we've gotten to know each other really well in that time, even though I know I'm not really the kind of guy to let people really know me. I mean, truly. All the friends I have, and I feel like you're the only one who's seen the real me, and who I feel comfortable showing that to you. That's why I love you so much."

Her brain was telling her to look into Jae's eyes and listen, _really_ listen, to what he was saying. Her brain was telling her that he was saying something incredibly important, and that she was the worst jerk imaginable for not paying attention to him. But the rest of Rachel was looking past him, so absorbed in this music…

"And I know that we're both still in school, and if you don't want to rush into anything, I understand," Jake continued. "But what I'm trying to say is…I think you're a spectacular person, and I'm so glad and surprised that a girl like you would give a guy like me a second glance. I'm so grateful that you've stuck around all this time. These past two years since I've met you—they've been the best years of my life."

Rachel wrenched her attention away from the music—a feat that was nearly impossible, for the sound was growing louder. But Jake was looking right at her, right into her eyes. Her gut twisted. Had he said something? Was he expecting an answer to a question? Hoping she wasn't about to botch everything and make them both look like fools, Rachel smiled and nodded.

Jake chuckled a little. "So, um, I want to ask you something I've wanted to ask you for kind of a long time…" He looked as if he was about to say something more, to stall and put something off, but then he closed his mouth and looked Rachel in the eye. "Rachel Woodruff, if you'll have me…"

He pulled something out of his pocket.

Something glittered in a tree behind Jake's shoulder: a large, metallic blue-and-gold butterfly. It fluttered its wings, beckoning, then flapped off the branch and started flying away.

Rachel immediately broke into a sprint, rushing past Jake to follow the butterfly, her mind empty of everything but the land and the life she had left behind. In the back of her head she heard Jake calling after her. Her feet pounded on concrete and on grass as she sped behind the butterfly , cutting across sidewalks and lawns and roads. Her canvas sneakers thudded in perfect time with the growing, nearing music, sending shockwaves through her legs and up her body. The butterfly glided on ahead of her, beautiful wings flapping occasionally until it finally alighted on the top of a fountain.

Rachel staggered to a stop, panting. The water gushing from the stone mouths of dragons was unremarkable, but when it collected in the circular basin below, it glowed with a strange blue luminescence. The music and its origin were certain and clear now.

Lyrian was calling her back.

"Rachel!" Jake shouted right behind her.

She turned back to see him approach. He looked so confused and concerned and handsome, his brow furrowed and his brown eyes large and sad and his chest rising and falling rapidly with his labored breathing. His care for her was plastered with the boldness of Picasso across his face. Feeling that he deserved it, Rachel leaned forward and kissed him.

"I have to go," she told him. Then, with a smile, she turned and dove into the glowing fountain.

"Rachel!' Jake exclaimed, searching the shallow pool for any sign of her after the ripples cleared. He couldn't see the bottom of the fountain—or Rachel.

Almost without thinking, Jake plunged in after her.

A few feet away from the fountain, Jake had dropped a small velvet box. It now lay open on its side on the concrete, abandoned. Beside it lay the golden, diamond-adorned ring it had contained.


	3. Bad News

The young Lady Rae felt a tug on her complicatedly twisted and braided bun, and the entire cascade of cream-colored hair came loose. She gasped and turned to see Veeto perched on a nearby branch, his head and long beak turned away as if he was guiltily avoiding her gaze. She smirked at the bird, and he fluttered over her head with a laughing squawk.

"One day, we're going to roast you!" Rae called.

It wasn't true, of course—of all the birds in the menagerie, Veeto was her favorite. Not only for his vibrant plumage and ridiculous beak (which was almost longer than his body), but also for his mischief, which fit perfectly with his mirth-resembling call.

Veeto landed on another branched and cawed right at Rae's face.

"Malene spent over an hour on my hair," she scolded. "And you just ruined it."

Flapping up from his branch, Veeto perched on her shoulder, nuzzling her neck with his waxy bill and dispersing her annoyance.

"Hungry?" Rae asked. She withdrew a few berries from a pocket of her dress and offered them to Veeto, but the bird had his own idea of a snack: a blue-and-gold butterfly had alighted on a flower Veeto had neglected to pluck from Rae's hair. Veeto snapped at the butterfly, but it managed to zip away just in time, only to drift to the ground as if it had suffered a heart attack. Rae clucked her tongue and cooed disapprovingly at Veeto. "You scared the poor thing to death."

Veeto quawked mournfully and gave her ear an affectionate nip, which persuaded her to forgive him for killing the butterfly.

A man behind her cleared his throat. "Lady Rachel?"

The sousalaxist who had been playing in the corner of the courtyard ceased his music. Rae whirled at the man's first indication of his presence, then flinched at his use of her proper name. Yes, of course, she was _honored_ to be named after the _oh-so-great hero_ Rachel of the Beyond. But she hated that everyone expected her to be exactly like her namesake—smart, athletic, beautiful, brave, studious, witty, and of course an Edomic master. Of which she was none. 'Rae' seemed to fit her much better. And besides, Rachel was such a weird name. What were her Beyonder parents thinking?

"What news, Felar?" she asked the messenger, looking past what he had called her. "Any news from Trensicourt?" Her parents had urgently departed for the capital of the kingdom several days, and she had yet to hear back from them.

Felar fidgeted nervously. "Yes, Your Ladyship. In fact, the, erm, prince and princess have arrived and wish to speak to you in the Great Hall."

Rae's countenance immediately brightened. _Mother and Father are home! Finally!_ She thanked Felar, sent Veeto to the air, and ran to meet her parents.

When she reached the Great Hall, she saw her father standing alone with his back to her, his head down and his hands folded behind him. Rae quietly closed the grand oaken door behind her. "Father?"

The prince turned, revealing a solemn, saddened face. His hair and beard were as neatly trimmed and combed as always, but somehow his entire appearance emanated an air of disheveled, weary grief. Upon seeing her, Rae's father attempted a smile.

"Come forward, Rachel," he beckoned softly. "I've missed you."

She didn't move. "Rae," she corrected.

"Rae." He took a few steps toward her, and they embraced. When they pulled apart, Rae inquired, "Where is Mother? What was happening in Trensicourt? Is Grandfather all right?"

Her father took a deep breath. "Your mother is in her room, preparing to return to Trensicourt. We wished to come back to Caberton in order to personally inform you and ask you to accompany us."

"I'm coming back with you? So soon? Why?" Something painful and ominous was stirring in her chest. Had something horrible happened in Trensicourt?

After a heavy, tense moment. The prince lifted his eyes to Rae's and spoke with a low, melancholy tone. "Galloran has passed away. If we leave today, we will be just in time to attend the funeral."

The news hit Rae like a heavy blow. _What? Grandfather, dead? How? Why? What in the world could have happened?_

"Passed away?" Rae repeated, her voice sounding like someone else speaking from far away. "What do you mean, passed away? He didn't—he didn't just _die,_ did he? He couldn't!"

"Rae—" He forced himself to leave off the last syllable. "You must have been aware that your grandfather has been an old man since I first met him many years ago. Age catches up to us all eventually."

"But not to him!" Rae argued uselessly. Her voice cracked and squeaked on the last word. "He knew Edomic! He could have made himself immortal! He could have saved himself! All the great things he's done and accomplished and survived, and you're telling me he just _passed away?"_

"None of us can stop time, Rae," the prince said.

"He could have!" Rae was shouting now. "I bet Mother could have! I bet the great Rachel of the Beyond could have!" Tears were burning her yes, and one rolled down her cheek. "I could have if I was her, if I knew Edomic like her! But no, I had to be born without a drop of it, like _you!"_

"Rachel—"

" _I'm not Rachel!_ "

The prince was silent. His expression did not convey surprise at her outburst, or anger, or chastisement—only sorrow. Another tear flowed down Rae's cheek as she stared at her father, and she made no move to stop it. They were in his eyes as well.

Rae threw herself into her father's arms and wept openly against his chest. He hugged her tight and stroked her hair. Her tears were soaking his expensive doublet, almost certainly running it, but neither of them cared.

"I loved Galloran and miss him just as much as you do," he consoled softly. "He was more than a father-in-law to me. He was a hero, and…" His voice shook. "A very dear friend.

Rae said nothing. She probably wouldn't have been able to say anything through her sobs anyway. She was no longer angry at her father—she wasn't sure if she even had been in the first place.

When she felt like she was all cried out, Rae gently pushed out of her father's embrace and wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," she apologized meekly.

The prince laughed a little. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't perform a consummate amount of yelling myself.

As she stepped away, something clicked in Rae's head. "Wait…if Grandfather is—" She forced the words out, "—really gone, and Mother is his only heir—"

"Sh," her father hushed with his finger to her lips. "Heavy thoughts for a mind already burdened. Save those words for another time. We will depart for Trensicourt after dinner, and return to Caberton in two weeks."

He gave Rae a kiss on the top her head, then patted her cheek with a small smile. "Go pack, all right?"

Rae nodded, and her father turned and left the room, his cloak sweeping regally behind him. His stride was saddened but powerful; his back was straight and his steps were purposeful. In that moment, he did not look like a prince or a duke. He looked like a king.

Rae spun and ran to the menagerie to bid Veeto farewell.


End file.
